


Hues of the Morning Sky

by sin_shine



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1801 to be exact, Its short but thats okay, No Romance, and titling apparently, have fun kiddos, im bad at tagging, just sadness, we're still in the 1800s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9707183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sin_shine/pseuds/sin_shine
Summary: He only had only three goals. Aim at the sky. Make his Mom and Pop proud. Come home alive. Philip Hamilton had absolute intent to carry through on all of his ambitions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is like 1/3 or 1/4 chapters probably, I don't really know right now.  
> Also- I have no idea if Richard Price was really Philip's second but in my brief research, it said that he challenged Eacker to the duel alongside Philip so  
> Enjoy!!

He only had only three goals. Aim at the sky. Make his Mom and Pop proud. Come home alive. Philip Hamilton had absolute intent to carry through on all of his ambitions.

* * *

 

 

 

    It was a loud morning. Not because of the noise of the city, fading behind him or the droning of his best friend, his second. It wasn’t a loud morning because of the waves crashing beneath the bow of the ship, or the cries of seagulls as they flew above the small craft. No, it wasn’t loud morning because of any of these things. It was loud because of the colors. The early morning sky was a fantastic blend of violet, deep reds and oranges. The water shone spectacularly beneath the small boat that carried him and his friend, boasting its inky blues and soothing purples. It was far too beautiful a morning to be concerned with a duel, a challenge that was made in the heat of the moment- a _mistake_.

“Philip? Philip Hamilton, have you heard anything that came out of my mouth for the last ten minutes?” Richard Price spoke in a stern tone, one akin to a teacher scolding a pupil.

“I’ve been listening, but surely you’ve noticed the colors of the sunrise this morning?” Philip spoke with a sheepish grin adorning his lips. He had hoped to shake his second away from his disconnectedness, but Richard shook his head with an annoyed huff. It was hard to take his irritancy seriously, but even so, Philip sat up a little straighter as he tried to pay attention. Anything to soothe Richard's concerns about his well being.

  
“This is not a joke, Hamilton. I would _like_ you to come out of this alive. You know I dueled with George yesterday. He does not have intent to kill but be wary. From what I could tell, he is watchful, but not particularly spiteful. Do nothing to upset him further when you meet on the dueling grounds, _please_.” Price put emphasis on the last word. He knew would be a crippling blow to the Hamilton family as well as his own if Philip died at 19. At the hands of a young lawyer, no less.

  
Philip almost rolled his eyes at his friend’s words. “Richard you sound like my mother. I will be fine so _please_ -“He almost mocked, “stop nagging. I will be fine, I promise.” Richard looked unconvinced and was staring at the water Philip had been admiring just moments before, so Philip grabbed his hand sharply. It got Price's attention almost immediately. “I’ve made it this far, through fights and more, so I don’t know why you think this is any different.”

  
Price seemed to relax a little as he sagged into the small seat, sitting beside Philip. “This is bigger than a fistfight, but I can only hope you speak the truth.” He breathed out, eyes downcast. Philip's words seemed to bring him some comfort, though, as he allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips.


	2. Ten Paces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip Hamilton is just as stubborn as his father, apparently.

Philip stood suddenly as Richard’s canoe-like boat craft collided gently with the pebbly beach. The boat tipped dangerously as he stepped out, only one step behind his friend. Philip’s steps were unsteady, his lanky legs used to the current of the river and the way is gently rocked the boat. He stumbled drunkenly to the side, into Richard who caught him with a concerned grunt.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, using a gentle grip to steer Philip back into his previous standing position.

“I’m fine, Price. My legs got used to the current of the river.” He offered this explanation with a reassuring smile, but inside, he was a mess. He was filled with gut wrenching apprehension and could barely keep his hands from shaking. He desperately wanted to back out, to run home and visit his mother and father, to be _safe._ But by this point, it was no longer a matter of anger, or injustice. No, it was a matter of pride. He couldn’t imagine going back home and seeing the disappointment that would surely be on his father’s face. He couldn’t imagine telling his father how he had turned back, _like a coward._

“Philip, you can say no. You don’t have to go through with this.” Richard had gotten in front of him. He grabbed Philip’s shoulder firmly, trying to make the teen look up at him. Philip shrugged the hand off brusquely, trying to keep his eyes on the path ahead that lead to the dueling grounds.

“Richard, if I had wanted to back out, I would have already told you. But nobody preforms a speech that drags _my family’s name_ through the _mud._ He has to suffer the consequences!” Philip didn’t shout, but his tone was bordering on something close. “For the last time- I want to go through with this.”

He continued ahead of Richard, strides now long and confident, the pent up nervousness and anxiety translating into anger as it so often did. His fingers now shook slightly, but he shoved them deep into the pockets of his coat to conceal the trembling. Feeling the cool metal of the barrel he recoiled, the smooth metal alien against his warm hand.

“Philip Hamilton!” Philip’s head snapped up as he heard an unwelcome voice call his name. Unwelcome because it belonged to George Eacker, his opponent.

“George Eacker.” Philip began,” How was the rest of your show?”

“I would rather skip the pleasantries.” Eacker drawled, his gaze settling on Richard who had come up on the ridge, a few steps short of Hamilton. Richard met Eacker’s eyes and nodded curtly.

“Eacker," He greeted ," you brought a doctor?”  Richard inquired for Philip, who had taken a step away from the conversation and was looking out over the wide river that was just visible from the grounds.

Eacker gestured to his second who was standing several yards away, talking to an older man with graying hair. “Doctor Hosack is one of the most prestigious doctors for miles.” He almost bragged.

“Go, confer with your second.” Richard prompted after a quick glance at Hosack. “In five minutes, the duel will begin.” He left no room for argument as he retreated to Philip’s side. He followed Philip’s gaze out over the water, watching the boats for a moment. He couldn't help but wonder what the younger Hamilton was thinking about, but knew that if he asked he would only seem overbearing.

“Philip?” Richard rested a gentle hand on Philip’s shoulder, who turned abruptly, snapped out of his stupor. “Are you ready?”

Philip nodded. “I have been since we challenged him.” He said with bravado, a small smile, meant only for his friend settling on his lips. Richard was still filled with worry for his companion, but nodded gently.

“Then let’s go,” Richard prompted, turning with Philip to Eacker and his second who were waiting under a nearby tree. The doctor was turned with his back to the four, making sure his medical supplies were readily accessible 

“The rules are as follows,” Eacker’s second began, reciting the rules as was customary ,”Both participants will stand back to back and take ten even steps away from each other. After ten paces, both will turn, draw, and fire. If one is injured, the Dr. Hosack will escort them back across the river and to the nearest hospital.” Both Philip and George nodded in understanding. They made brief eye contact, and Philip spoke.

“May the best man win.”

Philip rested his hand on the pistol’s handle. It seemed much more welcoming, with the possibility that it could save him. As he stood with his back to Eacker, his father’s words trickled into his consciousness. _Aim away from him and end the dispute with honor. You do not want this young man’s blood on your hands. Make me proud._ Philip made a final decision in that moment- he wasn’t going to injure Eacker. He would follow his father’s advice. He knew that if he killed Eacker, it would stain his consciousness for a long time. His fingers stopped shaking as he came to terms with his course of action.

“Begin your paces.”

One. Philip held his head up high.

Two.  _I'm making you proud, Dad_

Three. He thought of his siblings and his mother who were probably still sleeping.

Four.  _I can't leave them alone._

Five. He breathed through the anxiety threatening to bubble over in his chest and focused his thoughts only on the next step he would be taking.

Six.  

Seven-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to be updating again within the next week but I don't really have a set date.  
> Have fun with the cliffhanger :))


	3. Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard Price and George Eacker can only look on with horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short and I'm sorry but I'm working on the next couple of chapters and they'll be longer  
> (Alternate chapter title: Philip Hamilton has even more regrets)  
> I appreciqte kudos and comments if you feel like leaving them

**Seven** -

_Time seemed to slow down for Philip Hamilton_

Philip felt the unforgiving ground before he felt the bullet rip through his hip. He got a glimpse of Eacker's face paling and noticed the doctor whirl around after both guns had been fired. He couldn't figure out why he had fallen or why Richard was rushing forwards. And then, and only then did he feel fire blazing through his abdomen and hip. It curled its talons around his consciousness until it predominated his every thought. He couldn't see past the pain, and momentarily forgot how to breathe, how to blink. He watched as blood welled past his fingers that were clutched at the wound, glazing them in crimson liquid. A gut wrenching scream forced its way past his lips- it was a discordant, sudden noise and until moments later, he couldn't figure out who had made the sound.

Hands were on his shoulders, pressing his torso against the ground, removing his clenched fingers from the entry point and holding him down. Another pair of hands began mopping up the continuing flow of blood with a white cloth. ' _A shirt_ ' Philip thought, dazed. The pain was beginning to fade and was being replaced with a numbness that made his limbs feel leaden and his eyelids heavy. Someone was calling his name, trying to convince him to stay awake, but the darkness that was lingering in the corners of his vision seemed so much more appealing. He succumbed to unconsciousness quickly, head lolling against his best friend's grasp.

"Philip!"


	4. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost the end  
> have fun  
> also its know of short but so is everything else on this fic so,,

It had been ten hours since the rusty bullet had torn its path through Philip. Is had been nine hours since Richard Price had rowed Philip Hamilton back across the roaring Hudson River with a tear streaked features and shaking arms. It had been eight hours since Alexander, his father, had collapsed in shock and seven since his mother had found out. Six since, by the mercy of God, he completely lost consciousness. Ten minutes since he had woken up.  
At first, all the boy had felt was a dull throb in his leg that was uncomfortable at most. Glancing down at the bandages around his midsection, he saw a dark stain through the material. What had happened? And then, against his better judgement, he had shifted his hips in an attempt to sit up. Philip had let out a noise that was less of a cry and more of a howl. Tears were dripping down his face but, for once, he didn't care. The only sensation he had the capacity for processing and caring about was the fire racing along his leg.  
He had tried to keep his body as still as possible as the pain faded slowly, slowly, letting silent streams of tears course down his freckled cheeks. Avoiding looking at the bandages, he took a look at the room in an effort to distract himself. It was a dimply lit space with looming shadows that predominated the area. A small candle illuminated the room which only made the darkness leer larger in the unlit corners. The oak wood flooring was stained with a trail of dark spots, like it had dripped- blood? His blood? A window sat opposite the foot of his bed, revealing a dark, rainy view of the city. It was almost peaceful if the gunshot wound and blood on the ground were ignored. Instead of moving even more, Philip relaxed as much as he could, resigning himself to the pain as he watched the rain run in rivulets down the glass panes.

\-------------------

"Can I see him, please?"  
A sharp, worried voice jolted Philip out of the dream-like stupor he had been in. For three hours, he had been drifting in and out of a sleeping haze, realizing a new wave of pain and recounting the memories every time he'd opened his eyes. He hadn't noticed the doctors that would come and go, each time leaving with downcast eyes, but this, this voice snapped him out of his feverish state. He focused his eyes on the door with concentration in anticipation.  
It took him a moment for him to register the voice as his father's but he almost sat up when he did. Philip grimaced as the intense stabbing feeling shot up his leg but gritted his teeth and turned his head, once again, towards the door. Urgent murmurs seeped through the wood before his father burst into the room in his typical fashion- making himself known the instant he crossed the threshold. He looked, Philip noticed, like he had been working. There was even an ink stain on his coat, which was for some reason, slightly amusing.  
"Philip!"  
"Pa-" Philip managed, the first real word he had spoken in hours. Sensing almost immediately his father was going to barrage him with questions, or even worse, silence, he spoke up, trying to ignore the throbbing in his side. He watched as the older Hamilton made his way to the cot, eyes taking in the way Alexander's face crumpled upon seeing him. He tried not to have the same reaction. He would not cry in front of his father.

"I aimed upwards as soon as they began counting, I did exactly-" the words fell from his mouth feverishly as he raised his hand and grasped his parent's hand with a weak grip. The discomfort in his side was forgotten as he rambled, searching for a reaction- any reaction- that was different from the desolate expression on his dad's face. 

"Shh, I know," Alex comforted weakly. "You did everything just right."

Philip felt his burst of energy fading at the reassurance as he leaned back against the bed's pillow, grip slackening in Alexander's hand. The room was silent for a moment, the rustling of the sheets the only interruption as Alexander sat on the bed. He was careful not to shift Philip's position, sweeping a dark strand of hair out of his son's face.

"I could have never asked for a better son," He breathed, an undertone of desolation wreathing his words.

"Don't talk about me like I'm dead.." Philip pleaded, the words seeming to drain him as he leaned his head back. "I have no intention of going anywhere." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to sincerely apologize for the wait! I lost motivation for the longest time but I decided to finish, so here we are. Only one more chapter! If you guys want comments and kudos are always appreciated


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